


Straight to the Thaw

by zeecosh



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeecosh/pseuds/zeecosh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Starscream hadn't shown up after Bulkhead rescued Breakdown from MECH? Bulkhead isn't sure he really thought through saving his archnemesis, since he's now unhappily stuck with him. And what's Breakdown going to do with his partner still on the other side, while he's in a base where no one really wants him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ballad of an Escapee

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is my first fanfic in about 10 years, but robots finally wrung it out of me. I got tired of just wondering how this "what if" would have gone down, and decided to just explore it. Let's do this thing, man.
> 
> Picks up pretty much exactly after Bulkhead busts out Breakdown.

“You have some sort of escape plan?”

 “Yep, but you’re not gonna like it.”

 With bullets pinging off plating, harsh light cutting through the dark, and the roar of enemy engines on all sides, Breakdown could almost believe it was just like good old times on Cybertron. Except he wasn't fighting off Autobots, and that wasn't a fellow ‘Con at his side.

 “On your right!” shouted Bulkhead, and Breakdown grunted in answer as he spun, dropping to one knee to avoid the missile some human had just launched for his head. His hands crashed down onto the hood of an armored car that had skirted in too near to its target, and with no hesitation Breakdown heaved it up and tossed it. It spun end-over-end straight for the helicopter, hovering overhead and peppering them with those tiny human bullets. The gunfire cut abruptly as the helicopter tried to swerve, but too late. Breakdown smirked at the fiery orange flames the midair collision earned him, but he’d turned his attention elsewhere even before the twisted metal had hit the ground.

 He couldn’t be sure that they were making progress or gaining any ground, and every now and then Breakdown had to throw up one heavy arm, shielding his head from gunfire. It was small, but it was _persistent_ , and really started to sting when it all stacked up like that. He squinted around the plating of his forearm as he caught sight of another incoming helicopter. He couldn’t be sure in the darkness, but he thought he recognized the tiny face in one of its windows — the human that had brought him here. He growled deep in his chassis, dropping to a readied crouch, and a mechanism below the helicopter began to whir as it gathered energy. His suspicion was rewarded when he dove left, and a bright blue beam cut directly through where he’d stood a moment ago.

 Breakdown rolled and came up with both hammers out, but the helicopter had changed targets. It was zeroing in on Bulkhead, who had been driven to his knees by the collective focus of the fire on him. Breakdown looked to the helicopter (charging again), then back down at the downed Autobot (not moving). He didn’t have long to deliberate before the beam would fire, and take the decision out of his hands. 

 Luckily, Breakdown had never put much stock in the kinds of decisions that needed more than a few seconds to make.

 He dove forward, tackling Bulkhead’s heavy girth to the side just as the cannon fired its harsh blue beam. It missed them both, and an explosion rocked them as the unlucky car that had been circling behind Bulkhead took the brunt of the burst. They had hardly an instant to recover before the gunfire started up again, and both mechs climbed hastily back to their feet. They worked back to back, Bulkhead with his maces and Breakdown with his hammers. If Breakdown had had any time to reflect, he might’ve been amused that the thousands of years spent trying to murder each other had prepared them pretty well for this. He had memorized just how long Bulkhead’s swing was, and he knew how long he’d have to cover the other bot’s right side after it.

A glance up told him that Silas’s helicopter was charging again, locking onto the two of them — but a horn blared through the sounds of gunfire and crushing metal. An instant later came the headlights of four more vehicles as they screeched onto the scene. Optimus Prime was the first out of his alt mode, and he lifted both arms to immediately train his blasters on Silas’s helicopter and fire. It swerved, bucked midair as a hit glanced off of its landing gear, and immediately kicked into retreat. The other Autobots also sprang into root mode around him, and for a few seconds, ‘Bot or ‘Con didn’t matter. Together they made short work of the remaining cars and helicopters around them. 

The appearance of the Autobots and the retreat of Silas had determined the battle. In just a few seconds more, the humans still alive had vanished into the vehicles that still functioned and screeched away, disappearing with a glare of retreating taillights into the darkness. Breakdown watched them go with a glowing triumph… until he realized he was the only one.

The Autobots had moved into a circle, with Breakdown kept in the middle. The little blue one — Arcee, right? — kept her blasters trained on him, and the grim look on her face said she was just waiting for the Prime’s okay to blast him off the face of this little planet. Breakdown glanced around quickly, scanning for a retreat. Between the two-wheeler and the scout, maybe. They were the fastest, according to Knock Out. If he could clear past them, maybe he could call for a ground bridge…

“Bulkhead, are you damaged?” The white and red one — a medic, Breakdown realized — broke the circle to step forward. He’d already transformed his blades back into hands, and held a scanner out to Bulkhead. 

“I’m _fine,_ Ratchet,” Bulkhead insisted, and Breakdown caught the uncomfortable look he tossed to Breakdown. The medic did, too. He didn’t look happy about it, but he turned the scanner toward Breakdown next. 

“What about you?” he demanded, without the same concern Bulkhead had gotten. Breakdown took a defensive half step back from him, only to hear a musical whirr from behind him. A warning from the scout, something about not taking another step. Breakdown wasn’t listening too closely.

“He’s in good enough shape to fight,” Bulkhead said, but Ratchet took no heed. He closed the distance between them, transforming one finger into a small light, which he shone toward Breakdown’s optic. Missing optic, he mentally corrected himself. He’d seen them take it out himself, he knew all he had there now were bare sensors and broken glass. Ratchet tsked his disapproval. 

“Breakdown,” Prime started, voice as slow and as solemn as any propaganda film from early in the war had shown it to be. Breakdown used to think those were exaggerations. “Do you know why we’re here?”

“To scrap me?” he ventured, tensed and ready to be agreed with. The Prime didn’t agree, though. His steady tone didn’t change in the slightest.

“We’ve come to rescue a fellow Cybertronian in need from a fate none of us deserve,” he said, “And also to offer you a choice.”

Breakdown’s wariness increased, although he was less worried now that one of them would open fire and blast him away. That didn’t seem like the style of this trap.

“A choice?” he asked, watching the Prime closely between his darted glances at the Autobots around him. 

“It’s the same choice I once presented to Skyquake. This war has gone on for too long, Breakdown. We’re far from our own planet, and everything has changed. There is no reason to keep up the fight. Join us, and end this pointless war.” 

It sounded like a practiced speech… but then, so did everything the Prime said. Any other day and Breakdown would have laughed right in his face for an offer like that. But today… today, he’d just had his aft saved by _Bulkhead_ of all mechs. Today he’s been thrown off balance.

The silence stretched out and the tension mounted. If he said no, would they kill him on the spot? Decepticons would. But Autobots were always borderline incomprehensible, and he couldn’t say for sure. He opened his mouth, vocalizer starting and stopping a few times as he debated his answer… 

…Until a distant buzz drew his attention. He saw Arcee blink, maybe for the first time since the fight ended, and pull her sharp attention away from Breakdown.

“What is that?” she asked, but no one had time to answer. The mortar shell landed just behind Optimus Prime, and the resulting blast threw the whole lot of them from their feet. 

“It’s Silas!” Bulkhead shouted, pointing to a tightly grouped cluster of lights rapidly approaching. “He must’ve found backup!” 

“Scatter! Rafael, prepare to locate our signals and send ground bridges,” the Prime commanded, and his troops were quick to obey. Everyone spun into their alt modes, Breakdown included, and took off in different directions. Breakdown instinctively tore after the familiar green of Bulkhead’s ATV, and the two of them barreled due West, rapidly losing all trace of the other Autobots as they sped into the night.

 

========

 

They couldn’t risk their headlights on, and the going wasn’t exactly smooth. Breakdown winced as his right front tire hit an outcropping of jagged rock and flew up, jamming the rock in question soundly somewhere into his undercarriage. Knock Out would give him hell for that, later. 

“Come on,” Bulkhead growled, rumbling on just ahead of Breakdown. He pulled a sharp left, screeching past a boulder and into a box canyon. Breakdown followed for lack of any better idea, and the two trucks picked their way toward the end. Plenty of rocks to hide behind, but Breakdown didn’t like the enclosed feeling of the place. If MECH found them in here…

Bulkhead cut his engine, and Breakdown followed suit. The buzz of the gun MECH had brought out had long faded behind them, and the two sat in silence. 

It was not a comfortable silence. 

Breakdown was aware of every small sound Bulkhead made, from the cooling clicks of his engine to the tiny, nervous shifts of his side view mirrors. He half expected the Wrecker to transform at any second and come at him with those wrecking balls. But it never came, and the silence grew.

“Think they lost us?” Breakdown finally muttered, keeping his voice low. 

“You mean, do I think they’re off taking down my friends?” Bulkhead demanded.

He’d have a taunt for that, normally. But normally, Bulkhead wouldn’t have just saved him from vivisection. He wasn’t sure what the situation called for this time around. Breakdown kept quiet, but the silence grew even heavier.

The moments stretched into one another, and finally, with only the sounds of night on Earth around them, Breakdown spoke up again.

“Hey, is your comm link on yet?” His voice was still hushed, but seemed abnormally loud in the quiet around them. Bulkhead had lost contact with whoever “Raf” was almost as soon as they’d fled from MECH.

“Is yours?” Bulkhead asked, and Breakdown grunted. 

“MECH disabled it first thing,” he muttered. “It’s not coming back online without a manual override.” 

Bulkhead didn’t answer, and Breakdown realized he was listening. In a second: “Yeah, Raf, I’m here. You got my coordinates?” Another pause, then, “Okay. Give me a sec.” 

Bulkhead transformed, and it was long-practiced instinct that sent Breakdown transforming almost in unison. He came up in a ready crouch, but paused. Bulkhead was standing straight, hands at his sides, and watching him flatly. Feeling a little stupid, Breakdown straightened and dropped his hands, too. 

“Alright, listen. Optimus is still out of range, but Raf’s got the ground bridge ready. We can’t wait around out here for Optimus to make this call, so…” Bulkhead drew in a cycle of air, held it, and let it whoosh out through all vents. “So it looks like it’s up to me. Can I take you back?” 

The question almost didn’t make sense for a few seconds. It wasn’t one he’d ever expected to hear from Bulkhead, not with the history between them. 

“What if I say no?” he asked, slow and hesitant. Bulkhead scowled.

“Then I knock you out, take a bridge outta here, and hope you make your way back home before MECH catches up with you again,” he said, but it wasn’t with as much conviction as Breakdown thought he could have. There was a reason they’d come for him, right? And putting him back in MECH’s clutches would probably go against it.

“Alright, so say I say yes — who says I don’t just take a look around, break out, and tell Megatron exactly where to aim his ground bridge?” 

“Well, are you gonna do that?” Bulkhead asked, and Breakdown blinked. 

“You want me to just — say yes or no? And you’d buy it?”

“Yeah.” Bulkhead grinned weakly. “For a ‘Con, you’ve always been a bad liar.”

Breakdown hesitated. His comm link was still down, he hadn’t lied about that. But how much of a choice did he have right now? He was in bad shape. His GPS was scrambled, he couldn’t make his way back to the _Harbinger_ if he tried, and the area was doubtless crawling with MECH. And Bulkhead _had_ just saved his life.

He had no way of getting word to Knock Out… but Knock Out wouldn’t want him making a brainless choice. He didn’t have to talk with him to know that much. Breakdown set his jaw. 

“Let’s go,” he said. 

“Hang on.” Bulkhead stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “I want your _word_ , Breakdown. Tell me you ain’t gonna turn around and shoot us all in the back, first chance you get.” 

It took him a second, but eventually Breakdown stepped forward to match Bulkhead, large shoulders settling straighter. 

“You pulled my aft out of the fire,” he said, “And even if it _does_ come down to Autobot versus Decepticon… you’ll have fair warning. I owe you that much.” 

Autobot-blue eyes studied him hard, but finally Bulkhead nodded. 

“Get us outta here, Raf.”


	2. Rise by Taking the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown's first day with the Autobots goes as well as could be expected, and Knock Out receives the news of his defection.

 

She was staring at him again. The human with the pink in her hair — Miko, Breakdown was pretty sure. (He’d heard Bulkhead shouting her name often enough.) He wasn’t sure where the other two humans that hung around were, but the ferocity of this one made up for the fact that she was the only one around. Breakdown was not exactly an expert on human expressions, but he was pretty sure that that glare was really, _really_ potent. He’d ignored it so far, in much the same way the Autobots had gone out of their way to ignore the new arrival in the base, but she was just not giving up.

Well, if ignoring wasn’t working, then as far as Breakdown knew there was really just one other route to try. He’d put it off in an attempt to be a good guest here, but one mech could really only take so much.

He pushed himself to his feet and started toward Miko on her perch in the metal balcony above the floor. To her credit, she didn’t look afraid — she didn’t even move. 

“ _What?_ ” he asked, pulling on his best scowl to meet hers. 

“What _yourself?”_ she shot back fiercely. 

“I’m not doing anything, there’s nothing to _what_ ,” Breakdown grumbled, and the human made some kind of wordless noise with her mouth. He was pretty sure that meant exasperation. 

“You _being here_ is a pretty big something.” She threw up her arms suddenly, gesturing as she lifted her voice. “You’re a Decepticon! This is an _Autobot base,_ helloooo?” 

Cute, the way she took offense like a Cybertronian would. Maybe she’d picked it up from Bulkhead. 

“You don’t say, never would’ve noticed,” Breakdown said, and added a grin. It deepened her scowl in a way he thought worked out pretty well.

“What are you even _doing_ here, huh?” 

“If you didn’t notice, it was your buddy Bulkhead that brought me here, so take it up with him.” 

“Maybe I _will!_ Maybe I’ll make him kick your butt right back to Conland!” Miko shouted. Breakdown was a little impressed. She was, what, up to his shin? It took some kind of brass to yell at someone that much bigger than you. Maybe that was why Bulkhead kept her around.

But either way, that was his cue to snort derisively and retreat back to his position of not doing much and being ignored. Breakdown turned to head back across the room, and caught Arcee watching him with a frown. It was sharp, and he wondered if her expression had actually changed at all from the first time he’d seen her, blasters out and waiting for the command to fry him. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him though, aside from the obvious _go drop dead_.

He tried a shrug on her, along with a helpless shake of his head. It didn’t help. She just looked more pissed, and started a quick stride toward him.

“If you touch _any_ of them,” she started, voice low, and one finger out to poke at his chest. (She had to reach up to do it. What was it with short people yelling at him today?) “ _Any_ of them, I’ll personally pull your spark out through your exhaust pipe. Got it?”

“Uh. Yeah. Got it.” Breakdown had been threatened by the best — it was sort of a way to pass the time, among Decepticons — but Arcee, he could tell, was a professional. He didn’t doubt she could carry it out. She was stalking away again before he could add anything else, and Breakdown sunk into a lean against the wall with a heavy sigh.

“Your turn.” 

He turned at the sound of a voice, a little surprised to see Ratchet standing before him, already looking short on patience, and a datapad in hand. 

“What?” Breakdown asked, trying and failing to figure out what he meant.

“What, did you think I was just going to let an _injured bot_ stroll around, dripping energon everywhere? Come on, let me have a look at that optic.”

Ratchet turned, heading toward the berth that Breakdown realized served as their medical wing. It was more like a… medical corner. Sad, really. Knock Out would never put up with those conditions, he’d go on strike. 

It took Breakdown a few seconds (and a pointed stare from Ratchet) to realize he should probably follow, and he hurried to catch up. This was Knock Out’s job, generally speaking — it had been for as long as Breakdown wanted to remember. It was hard to stomach the idea that suddenly he had an Autobot medic, and it made him more than a little nervous. He wasn’t even going to touch the idea of _why_ Ratchet would care to look him over, and not just let him sit in the corner with various scuffs and dents.

“Sit,” Ratchet commanded, and Breakdown obeyed. That finger flashlight was back as Ratchet leaned in, examining the hole that used to be his optic. 

“Now, it may _shock_ you to hear this, after seeing our humble base, but we don’t happen to have any spare optics lying around. The best I can do for that is patch it.” 

Breakdown shrugged. It was annoying, only having half his range of vision, but even just patching it was more than he’d expected from Autobots.

“I’ll live,” he grunted, and Ratchet snorted. 

“You’d better. We don’t rescue people just to have them go offline on us.” 

He turned away, rummaging through supplies. There wasn’t much room, obviously, but Breakdown noted that everything was kept in pretty good order here. Not as good as the order Knock Out kept (Breakdown helped when asked, so he liked to think he’d know), but he could admit that order was probably a lot easier with things like space to store things. 

“Now, you’ll be needing a full scan. Who knows _what_ MECH did to you while you were their captive. There’s no telling what code or surveillance bugs they could have implanted. Anything that broadcasts a signal should have been shielded as soon as you showed up in here, but we haven’t survived this long here by taking chances.”

Survived Breakdown and his friends, Ratchet could have said. _Didn’t_ say, though, Breakdown noted. That was good, things were awkward enough as they were. He shifted uncomfortably, listening to Ratchet’s grumpy monologue, grunting answers where appropriate. It wasn’t much like an examination from Knock Out… although the distracted air they both got as they were consumed by the job was similar. But otherwise, Breakdown swore, as different as day and night. 

Breakdown would have given a lot to be under his partner’s care right now, actually. Had he heard the news yet? He must have, it had been hours. Breakdown wondered what he thought. He knew Breakdown wouldn’t just desert, especially not with Knock Out still there. Right? He had to.

“…Hear me?” 

He blinked, suddenly realizing he was being addressed again. Ratchet tapped an instrument against Breakdown’s right arm impatiently. 

“I said, _lift the arm_. How am I supposed to get at your wiring with those huge gorilla arms in the way?”

Breakdown wasn’t sure what a gorilla was, but he dutifully sighed and obeyed, allowing Ratchet to continue the exam.

He missed Knock Out.

 

===

 

“He _what?_ ” 

Knock Out’s incredulity echoed through the Harbinger’s medical bay, and he may have just snapped one of his more slender instruments. He pushed the thing out of sight behind his back, hoping Starscream hadn’t noticed. The mech fed off of reactions, it was never a good idea to let him know he’d gotten one.

Starscream, however, appeared to be perfectly aware that his news wasn’t being taken well, and smirked. 

“He _deserted_ ,” he said again, and sounded insufferably pleased about it. “After I went out of my way to track down his signal! _Against_ Megatron’s orders, I might add.” 

Knock Out’s mind was racing. Why did Breakdown need tracking? Last _he’d_ heard, his partner was just out on a routine run after an energon signal. When he didn’t answer immediately, Starscream pounced on the chance to keep talking.

“So like I was saying, I risked life and limb to show up to break him out of the clutches of that human organization, and what do you know? _Gone_. One of the vehicons told me they’d spotted him driving away with —  _guess who_ , Knock Out. You’ll never guess.” 

“ _Who_?” Knock Out gritted out. Starscream clearly wanted to crow about it, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the story back for long, but Knock Out wanted this news out as quickly as possible.

“Bulkhead.” Starscream smiled like he’d just informed Knock Out that Megatron had decided on a career change and left him in charge. “So much for that _rivalry_ of theirs, hmm? It turns out all he needed was an unsupervised moment to turn tail and drive right into the waiting arms of the Autobots.” 

“How do you know he wasn’t _chasing_ him?” Knock Out demanded. “You know Breakdown. All Bulkhead has to do is _show up_ , and he’s liable to forget his mission and go careening after him, if I’m not around to remind him.” 

“Ah, ah.” Starscream waved one long, sharp finger at Knock Out proudly. “I have it on good authority that they were driving _side-by-side._ ”

 _Since when do you consider vehicon report ‘good authority’_ , Knock Out wanted to ask, but knew better. The moment it suited his purpose, vehicons were accurate and reliable witnesses who would never misreport a fact. 

Knock Out wanted to get his hands on the vehicon that had gone and accused Breakdown of deserting, though. Just thinking of it darkened his face. _Breakdown_ , who even _liked_ the vehicons. Served him right, didn’t it? 

“I’m sure he had _some_ kind of reason,” Knock Out insisted, and turned away. There were tools to polish, which would make a great display of indifferent non-concern about the matter. “Breakdown is loyal to Megatron. He’s probably planning some kind of trap.” 

Knock Out knew that wasn’t the case even as he said it. Breakdown was a lot of things, but _conniving_ had never really fit him. Starscream snorted, knowing the unfeasible excuse for what it was.

“Oh, _is he_? I never knew that partner of yours had it in him.” Knock Out had nothing to say to that, and Starscream just chuckled. Knock Out heard footfalls as the seeker headed back toward the door of the medbay, but he didn’t relax just yet. There was a reason for this visit, it wasn’t just to share the news. 

“Well,” Starscream’s voice came, from just before the door, “I just wanted you kept up to date, dear doctor. Next time you see that partner of yours, it’ll probably be from across the battlefield. I hope _you_ , at least, remember how we Decepticons deal with traitors, and don’t go and do anything stupid.”

There it was. _Threats_. Knock Out scowled at the wall, and knew exactly what Starscream meant. _Don’t go running off and joining your partner, now. We’ll be watching._

He forced a smile and turned to aim it at Starscream, knowing that it would irritate him. Not always a safe tactic, but Knock Out cared less than he should about that at the moment. 

“You don’t need to worry for a _moment_ , Commander Starscream. _I_ know where my loyalties lie.” Delivered with perfect confidence and nonchalance, along with that smile. Starscream wouldn’t get anything else from him if Knock Out had anything to say about it. “And, by the way – it looks like I’m in the market for another _assistant_. Let me know if you see any likely candidates, won’t you?”

Starscream wasn’t stupid, he would know Knock Out had a _little_ more concern for Breakdown than that. He’d be keeping a close eye on Knock Out, as implied. But for now, he just passed through the door with one last smirk at the medic. The doors slid closed behind him, and Knock Out’s smile fell away immediately. 

The commlink between himself and Breakdown had been closed for hours, and he’d tried pinging it several times through the conversation with Starscream. Still no response. He’d have to find a way to get ahold of Breakdown, then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! With a quick sketch header, even! It's a Christmas miracle! I knew I'd be slow with this one, I'm rusty as heck with writing. Thanks to anyone still reading, and I hope to have the next one out in a ... much more timely manner.


	3. Rumble, Grind, Bear Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out starts planning and Breakdown loses a race. Many races.

The news spread through the Vehicons faster than a surge in an electric storm.

Knock Out supposed that was only to be expected. What one Vehicon knew, somehow they all did — he’d be surprised if most of them hadn’t heard about it even before the trope that had spotted Breakdown taking off with Bulkhead had gotten back to the _Harbinger_.

They feared him, and there wasn’t a Vehicon aboard that would ever consider casual conversation with the good doctor. However, for all they feared Knock Out, they’d really liked Breakdown, and so the fear didn’t keep them away forever.

The first time one of them summoned up the courage to ask him about it had been a surprise. He’d been looking the Vehicon over after a routine patch job, wrapping up with him and about to send him back out of the medbay. Before his patient had gone, though, the Vehicon turned that red-visored face toward Knock Out.

“Is he coming back?” he asked.

Knock Out stared at him in open surprise, too startled to even process the meaning. Then the Vehicon’s courage had failed, and without waiting for an answer he sprang up from the berth and hurried out of the hall. Knock Out had watched him go.

It didn’t end there. When that first Vehicon hadn’t been immediately eviscerated for asking, one by one others began to speak up with their own queries. At first Knock Out pretended not to hear them. He didn’t have any answers for them, and he didn’t owe them any even if he’d had them.

 “Did he really go with them?” one would ask as he handed Knock Out a requested tool. Then another, in the hallway between shifts, “Why did he go?” Another, sliding up near him in the energon dispensary, “He’ll come back, won’t he?” That he never answered seemed to do nothing to dissuade them.

 After a few days of it, Knock Out was ready to pin down and personally strangle the next Vehicon that slipped him a question about Breakdown. Breakdown's comm line was down, and Knock Out had been stuck here on the _Harbinger_ , how should he know _any_ of this? The Vehicons themselves had a better chance at finding the answers to their many questions out in the field.

 Which was what gave Knock Out his idea.

 The next time he saw a Vehicon begin to sidle over to him, taking advantage of a quiet and relatively empty moment in the medbay, Knock Out was ready.

 "Have you heard from — " the Vehicon started, but Knock Out shot out a clawed hand to snatch up his forearm and drag him further from the open medbay door and any listening ears. The Vehicon gave a surprised whine and a cursory but futile struggle, obviously immediately regretting the questionable decision to voluntarily approach Knock Out.

 Around a corner and mostly covered by a jutting bank of terminals, Knock Out released his hold and wheeled on the Vehicon.

 "I don't have any of the answers to any of your questions," he said sharply, in a tone just a few degrees shy of a snarl, "So _stop_ asking them."

 "O-of course," the Vehicon stammered, nervously trying to back up the way they'd come. Knock Out shifted to block his progress.

 " _You_ , though, could do me a favor."

 "I could?"

 "Oh, don't look so petrified. It's for Breakdown. You'd want to help him, wouldn't you?"

 That visored face nodded, still nervous and looking ready to spin into vehicle mode and zip away at a moment's notice. Knock Out stepped in closer and lowered his voice.

 "I want you to volunteer for every mission off of the _Harbinger_ until you see Breakdown."

 "Every mission?" The Vehicon quaked. Knock Out knew why; of course some missions were safe, but every run in with the Autobots had the potential to be a last mission. He couldn't blame the mech's fear, but he was counting on that fondness for Breakdown to outweigh it.

 " _Every_ mission. And when you see him, whenever that is, I have a message I want you to get to him."

 Scared though he was, the Vehicon listened as Knock Out spoke. Then he nodded, was granted Knock Out's permission to go, and slipped away as fast as his root mode could carry him.

 

===

 

Breakdown was bored. Painfully bored. When he'd accidentally defected from the Decepticon Army, he hadn't really pictured a lot of boredom in his future. Lots of running, fighting, very likely being immediately killed, yeah, all of that. But he hadn't counted on this.

The Autobots didn't trust him, and they certainly didn't trust him to run any missions with them. Not even Optimus Prime trusted him, who had made such a big and grand speech about ending this long war. Not that Breakdown could really blame them. It had been a really, _really_ long war, with a lot of animosity, and he wouldn't trust an Autobot that had suddenly appeared on the Decepticon side, either.

 Arcee still treated him like she was just waiting for one wrong word before she opened immediate fire on him. Ratchet ignored him. Bumblebee didn't seem to know how to act around him, and solved the problem by being present as rarely as possible. Bulkhead had made a few attempts to talk to him, but they had barely even made it into smalltalk territory before Bulkhead found something else that needed his attention. And the Prime was _always_ busy; Breakdown would have thought he was ignoring him like Ratchet did, if he didn't always look so grimly harried whenever he spotted him.

 Surprisingly, the human kids had fewer reservations. They treated him warily, and Breakdown could tell the Autobots had warned them never to be alone with him, but they did speak to him. Miko in particular spoke to him. Frequently. In fact, he couldn't really get her to stop speaking to him.

 "Step on the gas, Deceptidweeb!" Miko shouted. "This isn't even a challenge!"

 Breakdown had made the mistake of asking about the racing game he saw the humans playing sometimes, and Miko had made it her personal mission to make Breakdown play it and then beat him in every single level on it. She was making pretty good progress.

 Breakdown frowned, lifting the minute controller up a little closer to his optic. It was hard for him to press more than one button on it at once, and sometimes the little car on the screen scraped painfully along the wall while he struggled to shift one finger over so the other could manage the steering joystick.

 "I _am,_ " Breakdown muttered. Miko's little red car was lapping him. Again. "Do I _look_ like a racing car to you?"

 "Bulkhead could play this game just fine if he wanted, and _he's_ not a racing model either," Miko said. This felt unfair, Bulkhead's hands were just as big as Breakdown's, and Breakdown couldn't imagine the Autobot doing much better at this. But he also hadn't seen him forced to try it.

 Breakdown sighed as his car on the screen somehow ended up in a corner. Why was there a corner on a racetrack, anyway? He hadn't yet figured out backing up, so he figured this was about the end of the race for him.

 "Just finish your lap already and get this over with," he grumbled, and dropped the tiny controller to the couch Miko sat on. He hoped the little thing got lost in the cushions.

 "Are you this bad at driving in real life?" Miko asked with a laugh, leaning into her controller. "I thought Cybertronians would be _good_ at this game."

 "Cybertronians don't steer with a joystick," Breakdown pointed out. Miko was just pulling up to the finish line for the final lap, he was almost free. A sound provided a welcome distraction just as Miko's car blew past the simulated checkered line, and as she whooped Breakdown glanced back over his shoulder.

 With a whirring sound, the groundbridge came to life behind them. Breakdown twisted around more fully to see who it was, and the sounds from the game stopped as Miko paused it for a look as well. Ratchet was already waiting beside it, looking grim.

 Arcee stumbled in through the gate, clutching an energon-leaking side. Miko was up and on her feet immediately, but of course Ratchet was there first, an arm around Arcee's shoulders as he steered her toward the medical berth. Along the way he reached for the switch to deactivate the bridge, but Arcee stopped him.

 "Don't close it yet," Arcee said sharply, her voice pained. "They need help over there — things got rough."

 "You're in no state to get back into the fight," Ratchet said firmly.

 " _You_ could go through," she said. "I'm fine. I just need to stop and equalize my systems, I'll be good to go soon."

 "Not on my watch," Ratchet said, and gestured to the berth. She climbed on with a wince.

 "We can't pull out yet, though!" she insisted. "Bumblebee _almost_ has the relic, if we don't get backup now he'll lose it!"

 "Breakdown could go." That was Miko, Breakdown had almost forgotten about her. She stood at the edge of the upper level, leaning over to follow the conversation. All three mechs stopped to stare at her. She shrugged. "The other 'Cons probably wanna scrap him now anyway, right? So he'll _have_ to fight them, same as you guys."

 Arcee and Ratchet traded a brief glance, then Breakdown found himself pinned by Arcee's sharp stare.

 "I don't think that's a risk we can take, Miko," she said. "Not when the others need _help_ , not a stab in the back."

 "The kid's right," Breakdown finally said. He'd been itching for any excuse to leave the base, and he was ready to jump on this one. "I know you don't trust me, but neither do the other 'Cons. Getting you guys out safely will be my only ticket out of there, if you send me in."

 Ratchet and Arcee were both staring hard at him now. For very long few seconds, only the whirring sound of the open groundbridge broke the silence between them.

 "Go," Arcee finally said. "And if I catch wind that you so much as _thought_ about hurting any of our friends, I'll do worse than pull your spark out of your exhaust pipe."

Breakdown was already headed for the groundbridge, feeling alive with excitement. He hadn't exactly put any thought into who he might find on the other side — or what he might have to do to them when he did — his mind was busy with the thought of finally being able to spin his tires, maybe swing his hammer a couple times. A mech like him wasn't made for being cooped up in one base for so long.

 "I'll be back through soon," Arcee called as he headed for the portal. "Tell them that — they'll have _real_ backup soon!"

 If she said anything else, it was lost to the swirl of the groundbridge as he passed through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a flurry of inexplicable kudos on this lately, AND one of my favorite TFP fics updated for the first time in a couple years... I was inspired. I initially had dropped this for good (since I didn't even have a plan when I started writing it, and had run out of content to write), but suddenly I've got it fully planned out! I'll see this fic through to the end, no matter how long it takes. (And this one is a bit short, to whet my own appetite and remind myself what writing is, but we'll get into it from here.)
> 
> Sorry for the wait. :[ The next update won't take 3 years, I promise.


	4. A Burden to the Beat

Breakdown was probably not what Bumblebee was expecting to rush out of the lingering groundbridge, but Breakdown was exactly what he got. The heavy mech burst from the glowing light at a run, both hands already hammers, and the sight of it nearly jolted Bumblebee's alert systems right out of their casings. 

Bumblebee swung both of his own hands up, folding the blasters out of his arms, and squared his stance — but Breakdown wasn't going for him. Breakdown skidded to a stop next to the scout, his remaining bright yellow eye not even on Bumblebee. He looked past him, eying the long, dark cavern passage Bumblebee had been waiting in.

"What's the situation?" he demanded. 

Bumblebee blinked a few times, the focals of his optics whirring as they struggled to find a focus on Breakdown that would make any of this make sense. A Decepticon, charging out of the Autobot base, apparently ready to fight at Bumblebee's side. Like a punctuation mark on the whole weird sentence, the groundbridge snapped shut behind Breakdown. The younger bot shook his head, and chirruped his sitrep.

"Got it," Breakdown said, and didn't wait for Bumblebee to go over the plan he'd put together with Arcee before she'd called for the groundbridge. He started forward back into a run, either not hearing or just ignoring Bumblebee's frantic beeps after him. Finally Bumblebee threw his hands up and started in a dash after him. 

When he caught up with Breakdown, the sight he found in the bulk of the cavern wasn't what he'd expected to to see either. Bulkhead and Airachnid were still trading blows like they were when he left them, with Bulkhead struggling to keep up with the quick-moving Airachnid. He wasn't landing too many blows, though he mostly shook off whatever she managed to throw at him. But that part was normal.

The part that surprised Bumblebee was that as each vehicon caught sight of Breakdown rushing in, they stopped firing. They didn't  _ lower  _ their blasters, no, they were still trained soldiers. But none of them seemed willing to openly fire on Breakdown.

The lull in the firing spread as Breakdown made it to Bulkhead, but Bumblebee wasn't sure either of them noticed. Airachnid was distracting like that.

Airachnid's attention zeroed in on Breakdown as soon as he showed up, and a sharp smile wasn't far behind. 

"Oh, Breakdown," she said, pausing only briefly mid-skitter up one of the walls. Her tone was mocking as she continued, theatrical. "Has it really come to this?  _ Friend against friend?" _

"Calling us  _ friends _ sounds like a stretch," Breakdown rumbled, and slammed his hammer high into the wall where she'd been just an instant ago.

"You're right," she said, retreating swiftly into one of the far corners. "I can see that you're  _ much  _ better friends with the Autobots now. Megatron will  _ love  _ to hear about that." 

Breakdown growled and swung his hammer in a wide circle, smashing off the tip of a stalagmite that had spent eons making it that high off of the ground. The rocks flew like missiles for Airachnid, who ducked them easily and only skittered back to disappear into the darker reaches of the cave with an echoing laugh.

"She's not done," Bulkhead said, but then seemed to remember who he was talking to. He shot an uncertain look at Breakdown. "Right? I guess you'd know — can you guess where she's headed?"

"She's outnumbered now," Breakdown said, and hadn't taken his eye off of the walls around them. "She's not going to want to stay and fight — especially now that Arcee's off the field. Could still set a trap, though."

"Then it's just these guys until then," Bulkhead said, spinning to face their silent audience, the vehicons. 

But the vehicons still weren't moving. All their attention was fixed on the Autobot and Decepticon standing side by side, and none of them had even noticed Bumblebee's slow but steady creeping progress toward the half-unearthed Polarity Gauntlet. 

Halfheartedly a few of them raised their blasters, but still none of them fired. Breakdown took a step closer to them, and likewise his hammers weren't really lifted like he meant it. He'd had no trouble swinging after Airachnid, but the vehicons… he'd always had a soft spot for them.

"Well?" asked Breakdown, and his voice was a little lower than its usual rough confidence. "Are we gonna have to fight our way out of here?" 

Bumblebee,  _ almost  _ at the Gauntlet, paused to shoot a glance back over his shoulder at the scene. Breakdown looked grim, Bulkhead looked at a loss, and the vehicons backed up as he approached, nervously glancing between the two of them.

One vehicon in particular was being slowly made into the head of the group as his fellows stepped back and away from him. Bumblebee had never felt sorry for a vehicon before, but he'd also never seen them doing much more than firing wildly after him. Seeing one face down his… what, former commander? Is that what Breakdown was to them? Seeing this was a new side to the whole bunch.

"Looks like you will," the vehicon said. The pause was audible, and the next word came only after great and obvious indecision, "Sir."

Slowly, very slowly, he raised his arm-mounted blaster. He didn't aim it at either mech, though. The barrel was pointed at the far wall when he fired, and laser bit harmlessly into rock. The other vehicons picked up on the cue from there. Soon laser blasts were firing throughout the cavern as if the battle had picked up where it left off, but none of it was centered on the pair. Well, not on Breakdown, anyway. Bumblebee had finally been noticed, and it took a dive for him to duck under an aggressive blast aimed his way. Bulkhead was back to ducking and dodging, too. 

Breakdown, though, just stood in the middle of the cavern with lasers fired off around him, none of them even close to grazing his plating. Bumblebee had to tear his attention away and get to the business of bolting for the Gauntlet, but the last he saw of Breakdown the mech was motionless where he stood.

Bumblebee whistled triumphantly as a rolling dodge took him to the Gauntlet, and he snatched it up out of the pile of rocks it'd been dropped and half buried in. Immediately he folded down into his alt mode around it, tires squealing on stone as he took off for the exit of the cave system. 

"Come on!" Bulkhead shouted, and transformed after him. He wasn't followed, though. He skidded to a stop near the mouth of the cavern, angling himself to look back at Breakdown. A vehicon had approached him. The same that had kicked off their awkward battle? Bulkhead couldn't be sure, he couldn't tell the vehicons apart. 

He strained, audials shifting their inner dishes as he tried to pick up their words over the laser fire.

"...from Knock Out," he vehicon was saying, almost whispering. Breakdown's single remaining eye had widened, and he nodded quickly.

"Go ahead," he said. 

The vehicon hesitated only briefly, then spoke again. "He… he said, don't bother to fix your comm line, there's no frequency for traitors." 

Here the vehicon flinched, like he was sure Breakdown would lash out at him. Breakdown didn't move. In a moment the vehicon continued.

"And — and to look alive, Faultline is coming." 

The vehicon said it awkwardly, like he wasn't sure he had the words right. Bulkhead wasn't even sure he'd heard it correctly. Who was Faultline? Breakdown gave no indication of comprehension, and just nodded. 

"Thanks," he said, simply, and landed a wide, heavy hand on the vehicon's shoulder. "Tell him…" Breakdown paused, face furrowing with a frown. The vehicon waited, expectant. "Tell him I'm just gonna pick up some spare cylinder caps." 

The vehicon didn't look particularly enlightened by that, and Bulkhead was again left wondering if he'd misheard. But then Breakdown was shoving past the vehicon, transforming, engine roaring to catch up with Bulkhead. 

Bulkhead didn't need any more encouragement than that. The two of them flew out of the cave after Bumblebee, and into the waiting groundbridge. 

The vehicons didn't wait around much longer after that. One of them radioed in that they'd lost the targets and the relic, and soon enough Soundwave had opened a portal for them back to the  _ Harbinger. _

After the last vehicon trooped through the groundbridge and the portal closed behind them, Airachnid dropped slowly and silently from her shadowed perch at the very crest of the cave ceiling. There she had waited, crouched patiently between stalactites, and watched. The smile that carved her face said she very much liked what she had seen.

 

===

 

When he received it from the medbay, the summons was what Knock Out had been afraid of. He'd known it was coming, of course, but he'd dreaded it. The vehicon must have slipped, he'd gotten the word around, the message had made it into the wrong ears — these and a dozen more wild conclusions skidded around his mind and kept him company all the way up to the bridge. There he stood up straight, one hand clutching the other's wrist behind his back, while Megatron paced across the deck like a spiky, ill-tempered shadow.

"You're  _ sure," _ said Megatron, speaking slowly, "That you heard this message correctly?"

Airachnid stood not far from Knock Out, making  _ at attention  _ look casual and irreverent. Her smile curved more sharply than usual, slicing through her faceplate like a dark, pleased gash. 

"Yes, Lord Megatron," she said. "I was right above the two of them."

Megatron couldn't have understood the content. He  _ couldn't  _ — Knock Out had coded it too carefully. Was it the fact alone that he'd had it sent to Breakdown? His nerves buzzed in a white panic, but his only movement was his optics, darting between Airachnid and Megatron. Of  _ course  _ she'd be the one to hear it. Another mech might have kept it to themselves or ignored it, but where Airachnid saw an opportunity, she took it.

Megatron paced to a stop. He was faced away from Knock Out, turned to the screen interfaces that lit the gloomy hall of the bridge.

"We always  _ think  _ we pick our allegiances carefully," he said. "But time and time again, those we trust turn against us."

Knock Out thought his spark might jolt its way straight out of its casing and break into the room at large. It was all he could do to stand still, to keep his thin, sharp fingers from rattling against one another behind his back. Was this it? Was he about to get a fusion canon blast through the head? Wouldn't  _ that  _ be a laugh, if Breakdown were the one to defect, but Knock Out was the one in danger after all.

"There's  _ no frequency for traitors." _ Megatron repeated it slowly, and then chuckled. Slowly he turned around again, and that hungry, unpredictable gaze fell over Knock Out. He smiled. "It was well-put. I commend you for your continued loyalty, Knock Out. Even in the face of desertion from a partner, you stay true to the Decepticon cause."

Knock Out couldn't even filter air in through his system. Where was the second part? True, that first part was designed for listening ears, but the second part? It never came. Megatron was already turning away again.

"Dismissed, Knock Out," Megatron said, and immediately his attention turned to whatever it was Soundwave had called up onto the screens to bring to his attention. Knock Out's mind reeled. That was  _ it? _

He looked over at Airachnid, disbelieving. Had she only heard the first part? Had the vehicon only  _ said _ the first part? Airachnid's faceted eyes had landed on Knock Out, and she offered a jaunty little wave.  She started for the door behind Knock Out, and her clicking feet paused just briefly as she passed him.

"You're  _ welcome, _ dear doctor," she said, and it came out like the low purr of an especially well-designed car. "Remember this."

And then she was gone past him, leaving Knock Out to his rising dismay. He couldn't think of a single mech on the ship he'd  _ less  _ prefer to owe a favor to — or have inadvertently gifted with a tantalizing if obfuscated bit of blackmail. 

Before Megatron could notice and question his lingering presence, Knock Out turned to make his hurried way back to the medbay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how sometimes you write an entire chapter, then realize that's meant to come after the chapter you haven't written yet? Oops. Well, at least the next one is mostly done.


	5. A Motorcade of Meant-to-Bes

Breakdown stared up at Optimus Prime, and Optimus Prime stared down at Breakdown. The other Autobots were going about whatever business they had at the base, but Breakdown was acutely aware that each one of them was listening closely. In fact, Bulkhead was so distracted that he'd picked up and put down the same energon crate three times now.

"Breakdown," the Prime said solemnly, "It can now be said that the Decepticons, without a doubt, know that we have brought you into our base. You have defected, in their eyes. I have no doubt that you will become a prime target."

None of this was news. Breakdown nodded.

"And as trust is won, not given, I could not ask the same loyalty from you that we Autobot have come to afford each other. And we, in turn, cannot give it so easily. Our hold on this planet is precarious at best, and sabotage could destroy what we have built."

That was sure true, and Breakdown was even more aware of it after seeing their base. The Autobots were just scraping by over here. He nodded again.

"Then we are left with the question," the Prime continued, "Of what to do with you. You cannot be left here unsupervised, but venturing into the battlefield with us would be exceedingly dangerous for you."

"The vehicons didn't want to attack him." That was Bulkhead, who had finally given up the pretense and turned toward the conversation. The others followed suit, and all heads turned to face Breakdown and Optimus. "So it might not be  _ that  _ dangerous."

Optimus's attention had shifted briefly to Bulkhead, and swung to fix on Breakdown again. "Is this true?" he asked. 

One more time, Breakdown nodded. "Well, yeah," he said. "They like me."

"For now," the Prime said, and sounded even more melancholy than he usually did. "But I am sure I don't need to remind you that it would not be the first time the war has turned friend against friend. You cannot count on their continued tolerance."

Breakdown was keenly aware of that. Lenience toward an enemy was a punishable offense, and Breakdown now thoroughly qualified as an enemy. In the presence of a superior officer, they'd have to fight.

"So you want to know if I wanna face my friends, or bog down your operations by making you keep a babysitter back at base with me," Breakdown said. The Prime frowned, apparently not liking his summary of it.

"You got it," said Arcee, stepping in from behind him. Breakdown hadn't even seen her behind the Prime's bulk. Her optics followed him like a hunter drone back on Cybertron. When it still had fauna. "So what's it going to be?"

Decepticons wouldn't offer a choice like this. It would be fight with them, or be scrapped. It was ridiculous that they'd even offer the second option to him. Breakdown also knew taking it wouldn't score any points with the only bots on this planet that might care to watch his back.

"I'll fight with you," Breakdown said. "I'd have to do it sooner or later anyway. I wasn't built for sitting around a base."

Optimus nodded, slow and serious, because even when the Prime nodded it was a stately thing.

"Thank you, Breakdown. We'll begin by sending you with at least a pair, for your safety as much as ours."

He got it. Of course him being a priority Decepticon target might mean higher firepower brought in against him, but also they didn't want him backstabbing anyone he was sent out with. There was going to be a lot of that kind of wariness, and it wasn't unexpected. In fact, he'd be startled not to see any of it.

The informal meeting dispersed as Autobots moved back to their tasks, more attentively and less for show this time. Breakdown was left, as usual, not sure what to do with himself. He was about to drift over to the sleeping berths, but Bulkhead interrupted him.

"Hey, Breakdown! Gimme a hand with this thing, would you?"

It was a dispenser, mostly empty of energon, but still massive enough to take two to lift. Breakdown obligingly headed over, and together the two of them wrestled it out of the main room, down a corridor, and into the hangar. They'd only banged it once or twice on the not-quite-wide-enough stone walls by the time they made it, which Breakdown felt was a pretty good accomplishment. You could tell this whole place was built for humans, and not nearly roomy enough for the species currently occupying it.

He started for the doorway to head out again, but realized Bulkhead wasn't working on setting up the dispenser anymore. He was staring at Breakdown. 

"What?" Breakdown demanded, pausing.

"Who is Faultline?"

Breakdown's pause turned into a freeze. He'd been sure that the battle, such as it was, would be hectic and loud enough to cover that message. A frown pulled itself over his face.

"Heard that, huh?"

It was Bulkhead's turn to scowl. "Was that — was it code? What did he mean? I didn't tell Optimus about it, because you had a chance to turn against me and Bumblebee and didn't take it. But if you're plotting something — "

"I'm not  _ plotting," _ Breakdown said. He'd never been accused of plotting or scheming  _ anything _ before, Bulkhead should really know better. It wasn't his style. "It was a message from Knock Out. He told me not to repair my comm line."

"Yeah, because 'there's no frequency for traitors', right? Sounds like he was pretty mad at you." 

Breakdown shook his head. "No." He knew Knock Out, and he knew what the context would be. It was as clear as if his partner had said it to him directly. "He meant there's no safe frequency to reach him on. Soundwave is listening."

"Oh." Bulkhead mulled that over for a while, and apparently decided it checked out. "But what about Faultline?"

This part was a little harder to explain. Breakdown glanced away, toward the rest of the room. They were alone, and he couldn't see or hear anyone down the hall from them. He frowned, but… if he was going to start working with these guys, with  _ Bulkhead, _ he may as well give up an answer. And Bulkhead was right when he'd told him Breakdown was a bad liar, that option was out.

"He was a medic," he finally said. "A Decepticon medic. He was in charge of breaking down scrapped soldiers for parts, when parts were scarce."

Bulkhead made a face, but Breakdown was sure Autobot medics did it too. Maybe they just didn't tell people about it. 

"What does he have to do with anything?" Bulkhead asked.

"When me and Knock Out met, I was in bad shape. That's the first thing he ever said to me. That I better not look too dead, because Faultline was coming."

Silence fell between them. Bulkhead, he assumed, was working it out. Breakdown was remembering the night — and it  _ had  _ been night, and an exceptionally dark and moonless night above dirty trenches in the field, lit mostly only by Cybertronian biolights and low, deadly-looking red lamps that made the mechs under them look more dead than alive. Hell, most of the mechs under them  _ were  _ more dead than alive. But they were good for keeping hidden from any prying Autobot sensors. They'd gleamed in Knock Out's paint, well kempt even then, glanced off of his edges like a red halo. Only Knock Out's red eyes had been a brighter gleam… or at least they were in his memory.

"So…" Bulkhead finally said, "He thinks you're hurt?"

Breakdown vented a deep, heavy sigh, and ignored that he'd probably be just as clueless if he didn't already know the context. 

"It means  _ stay alive." _

Bulkhead mulled that over for a few seconds more, and seemed to accept the answer. He didn't have that belligerence clenching his fists anymore at least, and Breakdown still wasn't quite used to seeing him without it. It used to be the only look he knew on him.

"What about what you said to him? Something about the… what was it, cylinders?"

Couldn't a mech get any privacy at all? Why did Bulkhead have to hear  _ all  _ of it? But he'd already decided to go with honesty, and there was no going back on that now.

"Cylinder caps.  _ That  _ was from a couple hundred years later. We'd been traveling together for a long time already by then… I stepped out to go grab some for the ship from this little junky spaceport, and we ended up getting separated. Long story. It took about three years for us to finally find each other again."

Three years wasn't so long when you'd already been running with a guy for so many more, but Breakdown still remembered it as a frustratingly long time, with one diversion after another piling up on both sides. But they'd found each other again. Just like they always did.

Bulkhead took a few more long, long seconds to work that one out, but this time he seemed to come to the right conclusion without help. The look he turned on Breakdown was completely foreign to Breakdown's experience. It almost looked… appreciative. 

"You guys have been together for a really long time, huh?" he asked. "To be able to use messages like that."

Breakdown nodded. "Yeah, well. You get to know a guy."

A guy currently on the opposite side of a war. Both of them were thinking it, but it was a small mercy that neither said it. Bulkhead lifted a big hand, which hovered uncertainly in the air for a few seconds. Breakdown watched, not sure what the intention was, and found himself startled when Bulkhead finally dropped it to clap down onto Breakdown's wide shoulder. It was sympathy. No wonder he hadn't recognized it.

"I might not like him," Bulkhead said, " _ Or  _ you, but I hope you guys figure something out. Maybe you can convince  _ him  _ to come over here too, huh? Ratchet probably wouldn't mind the extra pair of hands." 

"Yeah, maybe," Breakdown said with a sigh. The trouble with that kind of idea was that the rest of the Decepticons would be watching and waiting for exactly that, and it'd take careful planning to pull off. Planning, along with scheming and plotting, was, again, not his strong suit.

With his condolences delivered Bulkhead was heading away, back toward the others, and after a quiet moment Breakdown slumped off after him. 

_ Stay alive.  _ That was the important part. He'd figure out the rest as it came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Breakdown and Knock Out's long, long history is one of my favorite things to dig into... There sure is a lot of it, with a lifespan like that.


End file.
